Scaredy Cat
by IrrelevantIsKey
Summary: Kurt really doesn't like Halloween. Prompt response, total mush.


A/N: And so, for my latest trick, I've written a twenty word Glee prompt! The prompt words were given to me by my friend Christian, and I _definitely_ wouldn't be adverse to receiving more, so drop me a line. In the meantime, however, profitez-en!

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I do not own the flawlessness that is Kurt Hummel, or his lovable, spotlight-stealing companion.

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><p><strong>Scaredy Cat<strong>

**Prompt Words: **_pewter, laden, storm, locked, statuette, spider, "I told you so", hole, "give 'em the ol' 1-2", shield, spoon, scary, vampire, flower, "float on", gerbil, mist, sink, red._

_Creak_.

Kurt jumped. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurred to him that it maybe wasn't the greatest idea to be alone on Halloween, a holiday that scared him to no end. Nothing good ever came of Halloween. He currently sat at his dining room table, attempting to do his French homework. All of the lights were off, except the dining room light – half for the sake of ambience, and half because he was too scared witless to get up and turn more on – the doors were all **locked** and _F__ü__r Elise_ was on repeat on his father's old turntable. He was waiting for Blaine to arrive, so that they could start their **scary** movie marathon that Blaine _insisted_ they partake in. He claimed it was the spirit of the holiday. "_We sang Baby, It's Cold Outside at Christmas time, we sang love songs at Valentines, and gave each other chocolate at Easter. Since we're too old to trick or treat, we have to watch movies instead._" He'd claimed, pulling out the full force of his molten eyes. Kurt was powerless to refuse and, at the time, it hadn't seemed so bad.

At the time.

Now, however, Kurt was irrationally frightened, and there was a **storm**, and his parents were away for the weekend at some stupid lodge retreat and Finn was out with his buddies – oh Gaga, what if Finn got drunk and got hurt? What if he decided to drive and ended up in a ditch? – and Blaine was on his way, driving through the thick and heavy rain in his temperamental SUV. _Oh Gosh._ Kurt looked over at the back window next to the table, and the thought of Blaine driving his car through that terrible weather was suddenly terrifying. What if he didn't make it? What if he broke down, and no one ever found him? Who would know where to look? Who would tell Kurt? Who would tell his parents? Would they ever find out? Would anybody know to look for him? Needless to say, Kurt flipped, slamming his AP French book shut and lying his head on the table, breathing laboured.

_Creak_.

This time, Kurt flinched. Under normal circumstances, the noise was fine. The house creaked every time it rained, and thunderstorms were always the worst. But this wasn't normal circumstances, oh no. This was Halloween, and Finn was going to die on his way home from Puckerman's stupid costume party and Blaine was going to break down and he was going to be brutally murdered, cut up and dumped in some hastily dug grave. This was terrible! The creaking was _definitely_ not fine!

Convincing himself he was being juvenile, Kurt tried to focus on something, _anything_ else. He laid back, eyes shut – no, not eyes shut, what if someone sneaked around the corner and tried to kill him? – and tried to soak up arguably the most famous Beethoven piece in existence. Kurt tried to envision his boyfriend's talented fingers playing the overrated piece on his piano. It didn't work. Kurt's overstimulated mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion, and Kurt began to see **red**, red blood dripping from those fingers, and Kurt's stomach lurched once more.

_Knock, knock_.

This time, Kurt gasped aloud. It took him a moment to calm his racing heart. It took him even longer to register that the noise he'd heard had been a knock, and that he needed to answer the door. By the time Kurt figured this out, his phone was vibrating on the table. There was no end to the number of times he would be startled tonight, it seemed. Kurt picked up the phone with shaking fingers, holding it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Hey! It's me! Where are you? Are you not at home? I can't see any lights on." Blaine said, sounding excited. Kurt exhaled heavily.

"Yeah, I'm home. I'm just in the dining room, so I didn't hear you." Kurt said. Blaine chuckled.

"Well, can you come open the door? I am freezing, I'm soaking wet, and the food's getting cold." Blaine said, teeth beginning to chatter.

"Okay. Sorry." Kurt said lamely, hanging up the phone and darting to the nearest light switch. At least now he knew Blaine was alive.

When Kurt opened the door, his boyfriend greeted him with a fake scary laugh, pulling a stupid face. Kurt rolled his eyes, heartbeat thudding, and let the sodden teen (correction: dork) in. Blaine put the bags in his arms down, biting his lip.

"I'd hug you, but I don't want to get your outfit wet." The boy said, and Kurt gave him a small smile.

"Well then get changed and _then_ you can hug me." He said, attempting a smirk. A sudden bolt of lightning made both boys jump, and Kurt began to make a show of taking the bags **laden** with food into the kitchen. Blaine left the room gleefully, backpack slung over his shoulder. It was going to be an awesome night.

By the time Blaine had returned downstairs, hair partially dried and his pyjamas on, Kurt had finished setting up the living room.

"I'm sorry I was so late." Blaine said absently as he reached out to embrace Kurt, pulling the tall, thin teen against him happily. If Kurt held him any tighter than usual – which he did – Blaine either didn't notice or didn't mind.

"Why were you so late?" Kurt asked, finally turning off the turntable.

"I drove over a pot **hole** and I busted a tyre, so I had to stop to fix it. When I realised that I had no hope of changing the tyre in this weather at seven at night, I figured I'd just walk. It didn't take too long." He said as he let Kurt go, moving to the table of food before the couching and arming himself with a **spoon**. Kurt sat down next to him after turning off the lights and picking up the box of Pad Thai Blaine had brought.

"Are you okay, Kurt? You seem a little flustered." Blaine sounded concerned, and the countertenor merely smiled, leaning into his shoulder.

"Just a little spooked. It's okay, though." Kurt assured him, then picked up the case of the movie he'd just put in. The front cover proclaimed that the title was _**Pewter**__ Crossing_.

"Are you sure? Because if you're scared, we can turn off the scary movies. I'll just as happily watch _Rent_ again, if you want." Blaine replied. Kurt could tell that his words were sincere, but he looked like somebody had just kicked his puppy. Whether at the thought of Kurt being scared or the thought of turning off the movie, Kurt did not know.

"It's fine. It's not the movies that scare me; it's the being alone on Halloween. It freaks me out." He told Blaine, who looked appeased.

"Well, if the movies _do_ freak you out…just tell me, okay?"

"Why? I'd much prefer to use you as my **shield** against the giant **spider** in _Eight Legged Freaks_." Kurt quipped, leaning back against the couch and pressing play. Blaine joined him a moment later, a box of fried rice in his hands.

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><p>"What? No, you stupid girl! Don't go there, go in- you're going to get killed!" Blaine protested, shaking his head. As the ditzy blonde on the screen turned a corner and peered into the giant, inauspicious <strong>hole<strong> in the floor of the haunted mansion she was trapped in, her head exploded. "Aha! **I told you so**!" It was their third movie of the night and, after switching discs and finishing their food, Blaine and Kurt had found themselves under Kurt's thick duvet together. Blaine had insisted that people in horror films are crazy, while Kurt had insisted Blaine as crazy for being so invested in badly made seventies slasher films.

On the screen, a puff of white **mist** drifted across the lens, temporarily blocked the view. When it cleared – with the help of a shoddy transition that looked like it was from Windows Movie Maker – the only female protagonist left alive was huddled in a corner, shying away the rampant mutant **gerbil** chasing her. She reached up to her left, and her tiny black and white hand grabbed the base of a **statuette** that hadn't been there previously. She swung it valiantly, attempting to free herself of the drooling prosthetic beast in front of her. A "vicious" battle ensued.

"In situations like this, my dad would say '**give 'em the ol' 1-2'** with as much gusto and enthusiasm as he could manage." Kurt mumbled into Blaine's shoulder. Blaine chuckled, and Kurt felt him **sink** further into the couch, wrapping the duvet around the two of them tighter.

When the credits rolled, there was a loud crack of thunder, making Kurt jump. Blaine, mistaking this as fear and not surprise, tightened his hold on Kurt immediately. Kurt was inspired by this, and buried his face into Blaine's shoulder.

"I'm sorry if those movies freaked you out," Blaine mumbled into Kurt's hair, eyes shut. "I didn't mean to." Kurt shrugged limply, sniffling exaggeratedly. God, Blaine smelt phenomenal…

"At least you didn't bring around a movie about a sparkling **vampire** running around a field of **flowers**." Kurt mumbled, his hands wrapping around Blaine's waist. "Those are the real scary movies." Blaine laughed, his chest and neck vibrating with the sound.

"You know what you could do to make up for it, right?" Kurt whispered as Blaine laid them down. Kurt moved his head to Blaine's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"What?" Blaine asked, wary. Kurt smiled gently, not moving.

"You could sing me to sleep…" the brunette suggested innocently, stroking his boyfriend's forearm. Blaine smirked, then shook his head.

"Well, since you're so scared and there's no _way_ you could have put that on, I will. Do you have a song in mind?" Blaine asked, rolling his eyes. Kurt shook his head and squeezed Blaine's arm gently, prompting him to choose one himself. For a moment, the vibrant _thump-thump, thump-thump_ under his ear was all that Kurt could hear as Blaine made his selection and began to sing.

Somewhere between Blaine crooning _12:59 Lullaby_ and his broken down version of _**Float On**_, it was decided that maybe Halloween wasn't so bad after all.

**FIN**


End file.
